


He's So Fine (There's no Telling where the Money Went)

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Friendship, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: In which the clothes make the man, the man finally makes Dean, and Charlie from the Other Block has a decision to make about which world she wants to live in.





	He's So Fine (There's no Telling where the Money Went)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatLeePT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatLeePT/gifts).



If you had told Charlie she would ever be sitting here in an unfamiliar room in a foreign world, feeling something sweetly sad over the 'hurt puppy' look on the face of a G.D. _Angel_? 

Well...she'd have laughed 'til she died.

Of course on this side of the rift they were merely dicks with wings and not the vengeful, universe-gobbling monsters she was used to. But, still. C'mon.

"Cas, I don't get why you can't jump in your golden car, drive into town, and take care of this yourself? Hit the Gap, Banana Republic. Or... Brooks Brothers..." Looking him up and down on his side of the bunker table, the later choice felt much closer to the mark. "Go pick out some shirts, pants; it's not complicated stuff."

She watched Castiel visibly turn up the need in his grimace, and before he even spoke again she knew she would give in to his request to join him.

"The problem is... I've never acquired shopping skills."

"Sure: You and virtually every guy I've ever known."

"And, well, I'm afraid to make a particular kind of misstep."

"What kind would that be?"

"There was a time recently that Dean... he criticized my attire. I responded by telling him that at least I don't dress like a lumberjack."

"Ouch. Easy burn, babe. But…ouch."

"Yes. He shrugged it off, but I could sense it stung. So now that I've decided it's time for me to shed these garments and wear a variety of clothing on the daily..."

"You're afraid you’ll pick clothes that are a little too _something_. Right? Hand him a tiny emotional grenade to lob back at you?"

"Precisely."

"Okay, so show me. What are we talking about here: What's your ideal makeover look like to you?"

"Of all the combinations I've considered..." Cas spun Sam’s laptop around so she could see the web page. "I'm thinking something of this sort.”

"Oh, no."

Charlie took in the admittedly hot model wearing ripped jeans, frayed azure linen t-shirt and a beat up black, floor-length leather duster with many pockets and she fully got why Castiel had asked for help.

"No?"

"Nope; you’d only be swapping uniforms, buddy. Sure… it’s hot in an 'Aging Rock Star Post-Heroin-Rehab' kind of way, but … those two? They’ll be merciless if you show up dressed like that.”

"It may be that this entire idea isn't my best one ever.”

"From what I’m told…that’s saying something. But look, don't give up: If you want to change, then change. We'll just tone it down," Charlie was on her feet and headed for the door; her ‘hack the problem’ genes fully activated, so deep in planning mode she barely saw Cas' frown turn to a hopeful hint of a smile. "C’mon… I think this could actually be fun."

 

-*-

It was fun - one of the more pleasant afternoons Castiel had experienced in his time on Earth. 

Charlie offered to drive since she seldom got the chance to do that in her world anymore. She cranked the Led Zeppelin tape Dean gave him for a while, and then asked him if he minded the radio. He didn't mind: He even found this _Patsy Cline_ singer she was belting it out to very much suited his ears. 

He would have to download some of her songs for himself – for the hunts when he was on his own.

They bought the most basic items first: Deep grey and blue tees, dark jeans and some slacks. Socks. 

Then she found him the perfect "I'm with the FBI" suit: Deep, deep black; thin in the arms, collarless, tailored in a way even he had to admit accentuated his arms and his backside very well. 

If, you know, he cared about such things.

Sadly, when she proceeded to do a slinky dance around him in the dressing room, pronouncing him 'Simply Irresistible,’ he only felt lost. 

"Really?" she’d stopped in mid-slink. "Robert Palmer? The chicks with coal eyeliner and red lipstick?”

"I'm sorry, I still... have a few..."

“Bad Case of Loving You? Didn’t Mean to Turn You On?”

"...gaps in my understanding of such things."

"Clearly. You have to rectify that; his songs were hella catchy.”

-*-

On the ride home she seemed to him to be more removed. Castiel didn’t want to ask – to try to draw the reason why out of her, but then she had looked at him with an expression every bit as wistful and tentative as he’d felt upon approaching her this morning.

“It’s a damn shame we can’t be friends, you know?” Charlie had said. “That I’m so very dead on this side. Once I go back home…”

“You don’t ...have to,” He had offered, “You _could_ stay here?”

He didn’t get any sense she’d taken the offer as seriously as he’d meant it - though she did give him a punch in the shoulder and a wink, and the mood in the car was companionable once again.

What was friendship, perhaps, when you had a universe to save? A luxury, most likely.

-*-

Charlie noticed it the second they walked into the bunker: Sam at the table, his head practically _spinning_ between the two of them at the door and his brother Dean next to him.

Dean, who was also looking up and _finally_ seeing Castiel there – clad in dark jeans and Burberry dress brogues, a deep blue V-neck cashmere top underneath a black silk bomber jacket looking casual, but polished AF.

It’s when it hit her that Sam had been preparing for this from the moment she’d texted him ‘Why does your winged thing think I’m his own, personal _Barney_?’

His reply had informed her that he’d never actually seen ‘Pretty Woman’… and by the time she was done explaining the movie, well, let’s just say he must have really scrambled in order to be in the perfect position to enjoy this.

“Dude,” Dean said to Castiel – the single word coming out of his mouth so low and heavy. Flustered. “Nice…duds.”

-*- 

“I got used,” Charlie growled at Sam once they were gone; Dean having managed to very slowly pull himself out of the chair - to invite Castiel with an extended hand for a walk outdoors, the two of them. “The sneaky bastard never said he was aiming to seal a deal.”

“Look at it this way,” Sam shrugged, popping the cap off a beer for her. “He could have asked my advice anytime. But he didn’t. Could be... it’s a compliment?”

“What, because I’m a girl and I’m supposed to know about shopping?”

“No…because he likes you. And he wants you to feel attached enough to us all to consider staying. We all want that, Charlie: Seems only fair to the balance, doesn’t it, since mom’s definitely going back with Bobby?”

-*-

Charlie’s jury was out on that question for a while – complicated by the fact that she saw neither Dean nor Cas for the longest, and the two of them had come to be her spirit animals over here.

“Good morning,” Castiel grumbled at her when she finally did see him again; her doing a Sudoku at the kitchen table, watching him gather up cereal and coffee and toast to take up to a Dean they hadn’t seen in nearly five days.

“’Morning,” she said back. “How’s the love life? Heads up, by the way: You _can_ die from too many orgasms in a row. Just saying.”

Cas put the tray of food down for a second; left it behind to step in toward her at the table – to plant a kiss on her cheek with his hand cradling her forehead and…she was pretty sure few girls had ever gotten such tender treatment from Castiel. 

“Point taken,” He told her, picking up the tray again, and heading upstairs. 

And that was it: The moment she knew she would stay.

In one way, it made no sense - this wasn’t her world, no matter how much they all seemed so very attached to her. But … in another? Who wouldn’t want to chase down bad guys at a more livable speed? 

Plus, after what had happened to _their_ version of her? She had a failsafe security system here named Team Free Will. Maybe she deserved that; a do-over. 

And maybe they did, too.


End file.
